When It Was You and Me
by tea and leaves
Summary: Candles from Kurt's perspective.


This is from a random prompt from a friend! Hopefully it's fluffy and delicious like cotton candy.

* * *

When I joined the Warblers, I expected to travel in luxury to Regionals. Instead, we're in a bus. A used school bus with cracked seats and no heat.

"I'm _freezing_," I complain quietly to Blaine.

"It's always like this," he explains. "The panel thinks it's good for us to rough it before performances."

"Did I mention that I require very precise pre-show conditions? I'm like a soufflé, Blaine. A delicate soufflé."

"Yes, you mentioned that. If you're cold…" He kisses me softly, angling an eyebrow. My heartbeat is like a string of faulty Christmas lights. "I can always warm you up."

I look around the bus unsurely. Blaine smiles.

"Kurt, this isn't McKinley."

"I know. I'm just not used to it."

He nods. "Me neither. I've never had a boyfriend."

"I find that hard to believe," I reply, smirking. "You're so good at this."

"What?" he asks. "This?"

He kisses me again and I push him away, laughing. He grins and squeezes my hand.

"I'm really glad we met," I say after a minute, nuzzling him.

He smiles. "Me too."

"I never thought I would be thankful for Karofsky…" It's the first time I've been able to say his name while smiling. "It's funny how life works."

"It is," Blaine says earnestly. "How are you holding up with all that?"

"Rehearsing this song has helped," I tell him. "I had to find something to relate it to…and as it's a breakup song, it couldn't be you. But it fits him." I look out the foggy window. "I really wish the best for him. I feel so bad. I know what it's like to hide that much…"

"You did all you could," replies Blaine. "And after what happened, if it's anyone's responsibility to fix him, it's not yours. We'll sing this song for us."

Wes clears his throat a few seats ahead. "Five more minutes, everyone! Be ready to get out of the bus promptly when we stop!" He turns to us. "Did you two practice _Candles _enough?"

"It depends on what you consider as practice," Blaine replies, and Wes turns around with a scowl. Blaine frowns. "Sometimes he really makes me think of Shang from Mulan…"

I snort, clapping a hand over my mouth in horror when Wes eyes me.

The bus pulls up to the curb, the Conference Center rising out of the river mist. The words _Western Ohio Showchoir Regionals_ appear on the side of the building in lights that cycle from red to purple.

"Ready?" asks Blaine.

I smile. "I think so."

* * *

"Has anyone ever literally died on stage?"

Blaine and I are standing behind the curtain, waiting for Sue's pet team to finish singing something about Jesus.

"Are you nervous?" Blaine asks, grinning.

"Please don't judge me. This is the first time I've had a solo in front of a competition audience. I have this nightmare that I'm going to forget the lyrics or I'm going to sing and nothing is going to come out. Okay, you can judge me."

"I think it's adorable. I think you're adorable. And the only people that are going to be dying tonight are the people in that audience, because you and I are going to kill this thing."

"_And now, from Westerville, Ohio, the Dalton Academy Warblers!"_

"Come on," says Blaine. "Let's go.

The curtains open and we smile at each other. I experience a flicker of panic when I realize that "gay" might as well be lit up in flashing neon lights above our heads. What if the panel is conservative? The blazers certainly aren't helping.

But then the music starts, and the first phrase is soft and right in my mouth. Maybe the song is ours after all.

"_The power lines went out__, a__nd I am all alone__. __But I don't really care at all__. __Not answering my phone_."

"_All the games you played_," sings Blaine, "_the promises you made__. __Couldn't finish what you started__. __Only darkness still remains_."

Our voices join. "_Lost sight__, __couldn't see__, __when it was you and me_." We did lose sight. We ignored we were in love because we cared too much. I made so many promises to myself to stay strong, to forget him, but it never worked. "_Blow the candles out__. __Looks like a solo tonight. I'm beginning to see the light._" The music picks up and we smile assuredly. "_Blow the candles out__. __Looks like a solo tonight__. __But I think I'll be alright._"

The song immediately breaks into _Raise Your Glass_, but we're beaming. When I look out into the audience, Puck is crying. If only the boys back in juvy knew.

* * *

"Blousy alcoholic," I mutter as we climb back onto the bus.

"It wasn't her fault," says Blaine, equally quiet.

"No, you're right," I snap. "It was that homophobic piece of rawhide that was the problem. She planted the seed. She planted the seed, Blaine!"

"C'mon, Kurt," Blaine whispers, latching my seatbelt for me while I sit back, arms crossed, in a severe huff. "We just lost a competition. It could be worse."

"What could be worse? Dying? At least there's no shame in passing your sell-by date…"

"We got to sing together, and that's what matters." I smile reluctantly and Blaine kisses my jaw. "Besides, we'll have more time together now. No Warbler practice, no Wes…"

"I heard that Anderson."

"…maybe I can make up for the lost time…maybe I could take you to the nicest restaurant in Columbus this Saturday…"

"Maybe you could stop saying maybe and ask me like you mean it."

He grins. "Maybe if you weren't so gorgeous I wouldn't be so tongue tied."

"Maybe if you weren't such a dork, I would be willing to be seen in public with you."

"Seven o clock?"

I smile. "Don't be late."


End file.
